Knight's Shadow (29 page)

‘He did. And now he is the Saint of Swords.’

‘So then—’

She stretched out her hand to place it on my cheek again. ‘And right now, you, Falcio val Mond, are the second-best swordsman in the world.’

‘I . . .’ I pulled away. ‘You’re playing with me, my Lady. There are many men much faster than I am, far stronger than I am and most certainly more skilled than I am.’

‘I didn’t say the fastest, nor the strongest, nor even the most skilled. I said “the best”. You were the only person who ever beat him in a fight, were you not?’

‘It was a tournament,’ I said, ‘and I cheated.’

‘Isn’t there an old saying amongst fencers? The fights that matter most—’

‘—are never won on skill,’ I said, a little annoyed that I couldn’t stop myself from finishing the sentence.

‘Look at him,’ Birgid said. ‘A war wages inside him every second he’s with you. How long do you think he can hold on?’

I looked back at Kest, who was standing twenty feet away from us, his head bowed, and now I focused on him I could almost feel the red heat radiating from him. Was I really putting him through some kind of private hell reserved for Saints who don’t want to butcher their best friends? I wanted to run to him and tell him to get out of here, to ride back to Aramor and find himself a nice little church to barricade himself inside – but then my thoughts turned to Aline, with her limp hair and face gaunt from weeks of terror and exhaustion, and I thought about the bodies piled up in Carefal.

‘He can hold on a while longer,’ I said. ‘I need him. The country needs him.’

A look of frustration – no, something deeper than frustration – showed on Birgid’s unnaturally young features. ‘And who do you think you are to speak for an entire country?’ she asked a little waspishly.

Something in her tone pushed me too far and a reckless anger filled me inside. ‘Me? I’m no one,’ I said. ‘I’m nothing but a man with a sword in his hand and poison in his veins and far too many enemies out for my head. But I’m
trying
, Saint Birgid. While you stand there and shower your useless radiance on the world I’m giving my life to save it. Who am I? Lady, I’m a
Greatcoat
. Who the hells are you?’

I’ve stared down Dukes and Knights and every kind of thug, but the look in Saint Birgid’s eyes was like staring into an infinite expanse of solitude and I found myself overcome by a sense of loneliness so powerful my legs began to buckle.

‘On your knees, man of violence,’ Saint Birgid said, her voice still calm, and yet it felt like a wave crashing down on me. ‘Look not at me with your blind eyes. Look instead upon the ground where you will meet your end if you stay on this course.’

No
, I thought,
I won’t kneel, not before one of you
. When had the Gods or the Saints ever helped anyone but the rich and powerful of this country? I kept my eyes focused on the ground and willed myself to stay standing.
You can kill me if you want, Lady, but I’m not bowing down to you.

The profound sense of emptiness kept building inside of me, leaving me feeling so insubstantial that I had to stare at the individual stones on the ground just to remind myself I existed at all. I studied the tracks in the dirt, the bits of broken twig, the patterns of dust, the fallen leaves swept across the road . . .

The patterns were
wrong
.

The tracks looked as if they kept going north, but someone had swept leaves onto the road. I turned my head to the left and only then saw the covered tracks heading westwards.
The Knights had tricked us after all
. They’d made it so easy to follow them that I’d missed it when they’d laid false tracks going through the crossroads. I would have kept us going northwards, oblivious to the fact that the damned Knights had changed course. What was west of here . . .? Garniol – that would be some ten miles west of here, a village a bit bigger than Carefal but still no more than a few hundred people. The Knights had succeeded in destroying Carefal. Now they were ready to try their tactics on a larger target.

The pressure and the emptiness inside me suddenly faded away and I lifted my head and looked again at Saint Birgid-who-weeps-rivers. There was a deep sadness in her eyes, and I realised what had just happened. She wasn’t allowed to help us directly and so she’d goaded me into anger so she could attack me – apparently the Gods don’t mind if Saints kill people; they just don’t want them
helping
us.

‘It is not our place to interfere,’ she said, and suddenly she looked much younger to me, like a child whispering as if an angry parent was watching over them.

‘If it makes the Gods feel any better, I have it on good authority that I’m going to be dead in a week or two anyway.’

Saint Birgid turned and walked away from me. ‘You speak too glibly, Falcio val Mond. Some deaths are worse than others. The one you go to is the worst of all.’

Chapter Twenty-Five

Garniol

My horse was showing signs of exhaustion when the winding road finally reached the hilltop overlooking the village of Garniol. ‘We can’t all be Fey Horses,’ I told him, sympathising with the beast’s plight. He’d served me well these past weeks but I wished it was Monster with me. She never tired, especially when in pursuit, and I couldn’t deny that Aline sending her away had been nagging at me. There had been a strange sort of sympathy between the two broken creatures and I suppose I’d hoped the one might help cure the other.

‘Come on, old man,’ Dariana said, and I realised that no matter how hard I tried to hide my symptoms from the others, Dariana always took note – and she invariably commented on it.

‘Don’t tease him,’ Valiana said. ‘Falcio’s not old. He’s battling a poison that would have killed anyone else long before now.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said, a little annoyed that an eighteen-year-old girl felt the need to come to my defence, and also because ‘battling’ suggested there was a fight that might be won – as if I just needed to try harder to stave off my otherwise inevitable death.

Saint Birgid, if I have to die, please don’t let it be in shitty little Garniol
. I had been here before, twice, and I remembered it as being a simple place, bigger than most of the villages around and yet still smaller than a proper town, which served only to ensure its residents were poor, insular and self-righteous. It wasn’t just that they didn’t take kindly to Greatcoats; they’d never seen fit to forge bonds with the neighbouring towns either. Maybe that’s why the Knights we were pursuing had chosen to attack it.

‘I don’t see any fires,’ Kest said. ‘It looks quiet.’

‘That’s because you’re blind,’ Brasti said, standing in his stirrups and shielding his eyes with one hand as he peered down at Garniol.

From this distance, I could just make out groups of houses, and little streets that all led into a large central square. The people looked like blurry ants to me, but something was glinting in the light of the sun.

‘What do you see?’ I asked Brasti.

‘I see twenty-five – no, thirty Knights in armour. There are scattered mobs of villagers. The Knights are moving together, in formation. They’ve got kite-shields.’ He leaned so far forward on his horse I thought he might tip over. ‘
Damn
. The bloody villagers don’t know how to fight. The Knights haven’t attacked yet; they’re just driving the villagers over to one side of the square.’

‘How long before they start to clash?’ I asked.

‘The way they’re moving? I’d say we’ve got maybe ten minutes before the blood starts flowing.’

‘What are the villagers fighting with?’

‘Farming implements, mostly, from what I can tell – no, hold on . . . there’s a fair number of proper swords too. Some spears, and a few people have got hunting bows. Hells – why aren’t they fighting together? The archers are firing straight into the Knights’ damned shields—’

‘They’re fools,’ Dari said, her voice almost mocking. ‘Never pull a sword if you don’t know how to use it.’

I restrained a powerful urge to knock her from her horse. ‘I doubt that the men and women down there would find that to be useful advice right about now.’

‘They’re farmers and ploughmen,’ Valiana said. ‘Most of them have probably never even held a sword before today.’

Where in all the hells were these people getting steel swords?
I doubted any of them could afford forged weapons by themselves.

‘Sympathise with them all you want, pretty bird,’ Dari said, putting a hand on Valiana’s arm, ‘but if we run down there into those Knights, they’ll kill the five of us in no time and the villagers will still be dead.’

‘But we beat those soldiers at the inn!’

‘That was half as many men, fighting around a room full of tables and chairs. This is a battle formation of Knights in full armour with kite-shields. Five of us won’t break their line.’

There was a merciless truth in what she was saying, but Valiana was right too: we had to do
something
.

Brasti turned to me, his eyes dark and his voice as hard as I’d ever heard it. ‘Tell us what to do,’ he said.

‘What—?’

He pointed a finger at me accusingly. ‘This is what you’re supposed to be good for, Falcio. This is why we follow you. Those people are going to be killed, every single one of them. I can see children down there, Falcio, and I . . . I don’t know how to do this.’ His voice cracked. ‘You’ve got to tell me what to do.’

I looked over at Kest, who shook his head. ‘We have to break their line, but five is too few, and even Brasti’s arrows won’t get through their shields. We need to pull that formation apart, and even if there were ten of us, I doubt we’d be able to do it with untrained villagers underfoot.’

I shared Brasti’s hatred for the Knights.
You’re loving this, aren’t you, you cowards, so secure in your metal hides
.

There were five times as many villagers as invaders, so the Knights would see this as an honourable victory, even though the villagers didn’t stand a chance. They could stand there outnumbered, knowing that the villagers didn’t have even the simplest training needed to break their Gods-damned line – and it is simple enough to break such a line with a larger force if you just know the basic principles . . .

I turned to the others. ‘Listen now. We’re going to go down there, and the first temptation is going to be to try to pick off some of the Knights. Don’t do it. We won’t get anywhere that way.’

‘What are we supposed to do then?’ Dariana asked.

‘We’re going to start on the outside perimeter, near the crowds of villagers. I want you to shout for those with the longer weapons – spears, old halberds, pitchforks, whatever they have.’

Her expression was incredulous. ‘You want me to get them to form their own line?’

‘Exactly. Get those with swords to stand behind them. When the Knights push forward against the spears, have the swordsmen run forward to strike in the gaps between them.’

‘Half of them will be killed!’ Valiana said.

‘Half is better than all,’ I said, my voice sounding horribly grim and cold, even to my own ears. Dariana looked as if she might launch into some sort of diatribe, but I stopped her dead and growled, ‘Just shut up and do as I say or every extra life lost is on your soul.’

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Get them into a line, put the ones with long pointy things in front and send the ones with swords to strike in the openings. Anything else, Commander val Mond?’

I ignored the sarcasm. ‘Tell the bowmen to get to the south side of the village. They can use the paths and alleys, just keep out of the main square.’ I turned to Brasti. ‘You get to the southern end and tell those twice-damned archers to hold their fire until we’ve created an opening.’

‘What about me?’ Valiana asked.

‘The children,’ I said, ‘you need to get them as far to the west of the village as you can.’ When I saw her expression I put up a hand. ‘I know you can fight, Valiana, but the children will be terrified and they’re more likely to trust your face than mine.’

She nodded and I heaved an inward sigh of relief.
At least she can follow logic even if she’s not great on following orders
.

‘Do you want me to round up the other swordsmen?’ Kest asked.

‘No, I’m going to do that. If those Knights are smart, when we charge the line a smaller group will break off to outflank the villagers. They’ll try to create as much fear and panic as they can – I need you to keep them occupied. Kest, when you fight them . . .’

I hated myself for what I was about to say.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

For a brief instant I thought about Ethalia and how, just an hour before and a few miles back, I had been standing at a crossroads where I could have chosen another road. A different Falcio val Mond might have found rest and comfort, and a few final days of love. Instead, I’d chosen bloodshed once again. I had turned away from the road that led to joy, not violence, and peace for Kest, not fire.
The red will eat Kest alive
, Birgid had said.

And now I hated myself even more as I said quietly, ‘Kest, when you fight them . . . let the red out.’

His eyes widened for just an instant as he realised what I was asking of him, then he dipped his head in acquiescence and started checking the straps on his horse’s saddle. But Kest wasn’t the only one who felt a red fever burning inside him.

I turned and looked at the others.
No speeches. No promises.

‘For Carefal,’ I said, and spurred my horse straight down the steep dirt road towards the village.

*

The moment we hit the village the five of us split apart, each following our separate plans. Dariana went right so that she could sneak around the main body of Knights while Brasti went to rally the scattered archers. Most of the villagers were huddling together in small, incoherent clumps, weapons in shaking hands, no idea how to make any headway against the unstoppable machine of thirty Knights with shields and warswords pushing forward in military formation.

The Knights were wearing black tabards.
This is a war to them
, I thought.
They’re here to wage war against their own people.

I leapt off my horse. ‘Over here,’ I shouted to a group of three women and two men crouching nearby. One of the men held a long boar-spear. ‘You,’ I said, ‘get over to the other side and form up with the other spearmen.’ Two of the women held roughly made hunting bows – the string on one was too slack, but they were something to work with. I pointed to the narrow path between the rundown little houses on my left. ‘You two, go that way. You’ll see a man with red hair and beard, dressed like me. He’ll tell you what to do.’

‘And who are you that we should listen?’ one of the archers said, turning and aiming the arrow towards my chest. She had long bright yellow hair and a wide face.

‘You know how to use that thing?’ I asked.

‘What do you think?’ She pulled back on the string and I brought up the arm of my coat to cover my face just as she turned and fired one of her arrows towards the Knights thirty yards away. It stuck in one of the shields. ‘I’ve used a bow since I was a girl. I just—’

I slid off my horse and grabbed the bow from her hand before she could nock another arrow. ‘If you know how to shoot so damned well, then why are you wasting your fucking arrows decorating those kite-shields?’ I cried. ‘You asked who I am? I’m Falcio val Mond, First Cantor of the King’s Greatcoats.’

She spat on the ground. ‘Never heard of you. People here barely remember the Greatcoats, for all the good you’ve done us.’

I smiled and tossed the bow back to her. ‘Well, I’ve never heard of you either, sister. So how about you stop showing off and do what I’m telling you and maybe one day people will remember both our names.’

The other woman who had hair just as blonde, though the lines on her forehead marked her a few years older, said, ‘Come on, Pol, what we’re doing isn’t working. Might as well try—’

‘Fine,’ she said.

The remaining man and woman were closer to sixty than anything that might be called fighting years, even in poor light. ‘What should we do?’ the woman asked.

I looked at the weapons they were holding: kitchen knives good for nothing but peeling potatoes. ‘Go and tell everyone you see the same thing I told you: spears and pitchforks to the east side, archers to the south. If you see someone dressed like me, do what they tell you.’

The man stepped forward. ‘My grandson, Erid, he’s just twelve. Could you—?’

‘No,’ I said. It was better they understood what war was, since it had come to their door. ‘You want the boy to live? Then let’s take down those damned Knights.’ I turned and left them there and ran across the street towards the next group.

It took time, even in a small village, to round up the people. Half of those we managed to get into formation broke their own lines even before we engaged the Knights. Some ran, wild from fear, others out of incoherent rage as they faced the bodies of their friends and families, bleeding out all over the village streets.

‘It’s almost time,’ Kest said, coming up behind me. ‘The Knights have figured out what we’re doing and they’re going to charge.’

‘Hold the line, damn you!’ I heard Dariana scream from across the square. ‘You think those Knights are scary? They’re just
men
– and they’ll just kill you. Me? I’ll drag your fucking arses outside the village and feed you piece by piece to your own Saints-damned pigs!’

‘She’s got an unusual way of motivating her troops,’ Kest said.

‘Just so long as she makes them hold.’

‘Falcio!’ Valiana called out. It took me a moment to spot her, thirty feet away down one of the narrow streets. She was standing with a group of children.

I ran over to her. ‘Is this all of them?’ I asked. Most looked like they were between ten and thirteen. ‘Where are the younger ones?’

One of the boys spoke up. ‘My ma teaches the littles on field days – they’re in the classroom up there.’ He pointed to a two-storey barn with a flat roof.

‘Should I head over there?’ Valiana asked.

‘No, just get these out of the village. I’ll deal with the others as soon as it’s safe.’

I looked around for another tall building I could climb and spotted a small water tower with a splintery wooden ladder running from the ground to its peak. I made a run for it, swearing as I skidded on the wet ground where a steady leak had created an unseen stream through the grass. I climbed about twenty-five feet up before I turned to look at the scene below me. On one side I saw Dariana, marshalling the men and women carrying the longer weapons and farming implements. Through her unique combination of motivation and terror I could see she’d managed to get them to hold their position. The Knights were waiting for their commander’s signal to attack.

On the south side Brasti was shouting orders, clearly ignoring mine; instead of assembling all the archers together, he’d put them in pairs and lodged them between buildings. I had to admit that made more sense as a strategy, since it would be harder for the Knights to use their shields to protect one another. On the other hand, it would be impossible for Brasti to control his archers, so he’d have to hope they’d obey his instructions on when and how to fire.